Something fishy
by HetaHetare
Summary: Arthur Kirkland has always been the personification of England, at least that's what he's always believed.
1. Prologue

"You can't do this to me, I am your nation, you wouldn't be here if not for me!"

The cry of protest rose into the air as the distraught blond was held down on his bed in the building that called itself a 'Secure Hospital' but that he could only think of as a mental asylum. It sounded pathetic and childish in the tension heavy air, like a child yelling that they'd hold their breath if they didn't get their way. "Mr Kirkland, please, calm yourself, we're here to help."

"Get that thing away from me!"

There was a metallic glint as a needle in the hand of one of the nurses caught the light as Arthur was held down long enough for her to find a vein. The nurse cooed sweet words of comfort to him, and the needle pierced his skin in the crook of his arm and gave him a small shot of ketamine . He hissed, lashing out. His hand caught someone, but he didn't see who, nor did he care. "You're making a big mistake, I'm not supposed to be here, I've got a country to run." the fight slowly leaked out of the blond as the drugs coursed through his blood and took affect on his system. Arthur's body fell limp and calm against the sheets. The orderlies moved out, leaving him with the nurse.

The nurse, an experienced woman by the name of Sarah, sat besides the sedated patient to make sure it had properly worked into his system so that he wouldn't lash out again. It had been some time since they'd had such a violent patient who had caused physical harm to the staff (usually they just caused harm to themselves, which wasn't any more pleasant.) It wasn't his fault, she reminded herself, the poor man was highly delusional. It wasn't her job to make a diagnosis, but the man thought he was a country, she didn't need training to know that wasn't mentally secure.

"Shh, don't fight it. You'll be safe here Arthur, you'll be safe and you'll get better. Your family is so worried about you, but you're safe now." she cooed.

Arthur's eyes became heavier, too heavy to keep open without immense effort. Sarah's words sounded like they were coming to him from the other side of a long dark tunnel. He barely felt her weight leave the bed as she left, locking him into his room. He supposed he wouldn't have been locked in if he was a good boy. Arthur scoffed at that, he'd served his people for a long time, all his life of course, and this was how he was given his thanks.

There was something that truly did worry Arthur, however. Even those who did not at first know of the personifications were innately inclined to believe them and know they were being truthful of their identity should it be fully revealed.

He also didn't know what she meant by having family worried about him, his family were the other personifications. Something fishy was going on, but Arthur's thoughts were quickly becoming a slow and falsely blissful soup in his skull. He couldn't think of any enemies that would benefit from having him here but surely...Arthur slept, his body not very resistant to the drug he'd been given and by the time he woke it would be to a very different lift than the one he was used to.

In another part of the building, within a well lit office, the man assigned as Arthur's therapist typed out the new patients details as well as his behaviour so far.

"Patient insists that he is England personified and the main representation of the United Kingdom." he spoke aloud softly to himself as he typed, English was not his first language and this helped him to make sure he made as few mistakes as possible. "He did not seem to register where he was when brought in, until Nurse.R tried to lead him to his room. The patient broke for the door and acted very violently towards the orderlies. One of the orderlies will now need stitches in his cheek and another may have a black eye in the morning. The violent behaviour seems directly correlated to his delusion, more specifically to the denying of that delusion by any third parties." he stopped typing there and made sure that Arthur's name and details were correct. "Arthur Kirkland..." he grinned. "Bon."


	2. So it begins

They had gotten him drunk, who 'They' were he couldn't remember, but he knew They had. It wasn't very unusual for Arthur to have black outs when he'd gotten extremely drunk. During these black outs, a large stretch of his memory would mysteriously desert his mind, even if those memories had supposedly been formed when Arthur was still sober. Even so, he felt that a little too much had gone missing this time, too much. He had every right to even suspect foul play.

Someone had gotten him drunk, that much he knew. What else would explain the fact that he couldn't remember getting here at all? Alcohol...maybe spiked. It ran through his head again and again as the prime possibility until it became practically certain. As Arthur mused on this, he was sitting cross-legged on his new bed. He'd woken with a start that morning, free of the sedative and free of the drink. He did remember acting out when he was being politely escorted to his room, and he remembered his foolish declarations. He knew he could have handled that better, it was a hard thing to believe.

Even so, they should have had that innate sense to know he was being truthful, unless nobody in this English 'Secure Hospital' was actually English. It was take a mastermind to pull that off, just to mess with him.

Arthur scratched at his head, wondering if he would be delivered breakfast in his room like an animal. His thoughts ran around for a few more minutes, like a dog chasing its tail and getting nowhere. It all kept coming back to the fact that They had gotten him drunk, that They had brought him here and told everyone he was delusional and that for some reason, everyone believed he was mad even though they shouldn't have. But why? What was the motive and who would have that motive? Was it some cruel and elaborate joke? (The nations were known for doing such things to each other - especially if they didn't like the one they were playing the joke on.) It was never something like this though, no, this took the biscuit, crossed the line, went too far.

Arthur didn't so much as slightly raise his lowered head when the lock clicked and the door opened. "Arthur? Mr Kirkland?" It was Sarah, from the night before, not that Arthur remembered her specifically, in the grand scheme of things she was entirely unimportant. She approached him slowly as trained to, and didn't touch him, just politely called his name again.

"Yes yes alright, I can hear you." Arthur sighed and rose his head. "Listen, miss. I need you to listen to me very closely. Last night I was very drunk. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Arthur. I understand." Sarah replied in a positive tone.

"Yes well, I may have said some silly things whilst drunk that probably sounded quite mad, but you see I'm perfectly sane." Arthur gave her a winning smile, hoping to somewhat charm her into letting him go, or at least pointing him towards the person in charge of getting him out of the place.

"Well, Arthur, we'd like to believe that if not for the lasting concerns of your family." Sarah replied. "However, you'll have to have an assessment by a doctor before anything will be decided about if you need care here or not. If you'll come with me, we can give you some breakfast and have you assessed."

"Oh please." Arthur groaned and got up off of the bed. He didn't complain much though, almost glad that the sedative seemed to have warded away his usual nightmare hangover. "Very well, come on then, let's get this monkey dance over."

Sarah found Arthur's attitude rather peculiar, but you could never really predict the behaviour of a person with any kind of psychosis. Sarah smiled, nodding her head slightly before calmly leading Arthur out. He certainly acted like a sane man, and she couldn't help but remember when she was a girl in school and someone had done an experiment (she couldn't remember the name of them now) in which he'd had a group of perfectly sane people pretend to have schizophrenia. They'd been committed, then acted completely sane. Nobody had noticed that these people had been completely sane simply because periods of supposed sanity was seen as a definite symptom of the disorder...or, something like that. Was Arthur such a person? Perhaps they were being tested? Sarah kept her silence however, she couldn't risk being wrong.

The dining hall was long, wide and bright. Windows dominated the entirety of one wall, but Arthur noted that only the very top ones opened as he was led to the line of people by the counter. Arthur supposed this is what it would have been like in a primary school, collecting your plastic tray with it's compartments and then shuffling along slowly like a good boy as your chose what you wanted and let the nice lady behind the counter scoop it into the right place. At least the food looked good, or at least possible to stomach. Not that Arthur was what you'd call a gourmet.

Although the place wasn't packed with people, Arthur ate his breakfast away from everyone else, morbidly wondering what those around him were diagnosed with. He looked up at a few to see if he could tell, and made his own judgements that were probably wrong. "Are you finished?" Sarah asked when the last scrap of food had disappeared down Arthur's throat. Arthur nodded and she showed him where to put his dirty things, again Arthur felt like a school child.

"Am I five? God's sake this place I swear..." Arthur muttered to himself, but not so quiet that she didn't hear and that was normal too, they'd had nastier comments passed around and she only assumed that Arthur couldn't help himself or chose not to.

"Right this way, Arthur."

Arthur followed behind obediently, co-operation possibly the only thing that would convince them he was sane or at least allow him to have the door unlocked at night. He'd also decided that trying to go back on his story might not work, but he'd assess the situation first. The floors were a calm inoffensive yellow colour and the walls an off-white that wasn't quite grey, just as they'd been in the dining hall. It was putrid to see, such bland continuity. There were a few posters promoting positive messages, the monotony of the walls broken too by windows or the doors for rooms that could hold just about anything behind them.

"Here we are, do you need me to come in with you?" Sarah smiled.

Arthur rose a hand. "No, I'll be fine." he gave her a smile back, after all it wasn't her fault this was happening. Arthur stepped inside his therapists office, it was very spacious but even so Arthur noted the bars on the outside of the window and the lack of anything sharp, even the corners of the desk were blunt. He took that all in very quickly before his eyes met those of the man behind the desk. "You!" Arthur's temper flared and suddenly it all seemed to fall into place. The Briton, now enraged, charged up to the desk with murder in his eyes. "It was you all along, I should have known, you've gone too far this time, frog!"

"I'm sorry, have we met before?" Dr. Bonnefoy twitched a little with the show of such anger, ready to press the call button should Arthur become violent but calmly let the insult slide, it wouldn't be the first time he'd been called that.

"Oh don't you play dumb with me, France." Arthur spat, he sank down into the chair that had been waiting for him and rubbed his temples. "I have no idea what you thought you were playing at, but I'm done with it, you've had your joke and now I'm leaving. I just want to know why the Hell you thought this was a bloody good idea?" Now that Arthur knew for certain this was all fake, he'd happily stroll out of the front door.

"France?" Dr. Bonnefoy hummed. "Let's go back to that, you called me France, what makes you think I am that nation? A nation is a piece of land after all, and just because I'm of that nationality doesn't mean I am the country itself. So, why would you think that?"

"I don't think, I bloody know!" Arthur was quickly losing his temper again. "Now answer my question, what are you trying to achieve from all of this?"

"I'm trying to improve your mental health, Arthur. That's my job. Now please, calm down, and let's have a good long talk about why you believe that either of us are countries."

Arthur glared at his long time enemy and decided to humour him, but if anyone was potty here, it was Francis for thinking he was going to fall it and start believing he was insane. Arthur was stay until he cracked Francis and then he'd leave and plot revenge. Oh yes, and it would be a revenge that would leave this frog's head spinning for decades.


	3. Old friend

Francis tapped his pen restlessly on his desk, the soft 'clack clack clack' was the only sound in the room apart from the steady ticking of the clock which hung above the door. Arthur was refusing to talk. That was okay, not all patients were willing to open up right away, especially to Francis.

Francis liked to start by assuring the patient they would be listened to, and that was it. Rarely would he humour a delusional patient, or one with hallucinations. In fact he only did so when it became a tool for getting deeper into the patients head to work out an answer and help them to see reality. His technique's were very effective and many patients were glad they hadn't been handled with gloved hands, but sat on Francis' knees and nurtured firmly but gently. Metaphorically, of course.

"Okay Arthur, let's say that I am France." The doctor started. Arthur turned his head slowly to face him at those words, believing he was starting to crack Francis' patience for the joke he was playing. Arthur himself had started to get bored with waiting for this crack, but had forced himself to concentrate savagely on a patch of wall that looked as though it had once had something there. A board perhaps? A whiteboard, or a board for display? The wall was slightly discoloured and there were still holes where the pegs or screws would have been.

"Go on." Arthur prompted when Francis didn't speak any more after that sentence. The doctor gave his patient a soft smile, smiling because he believed he was on the first stages of getting through to Arthur.

"Let's say that I am France, could you tell me how we met?" Francis picked up his notepad. Old fashioned as that was, he liked to write things down by hand in French before typing it all up.

"Oh, very well..." Arthur had a feeling he'd be saying that a lot, everyone here was trying his patience especially this pillock. It was only his stubbornness that stopped him leaving, now that he was sure he could. He wanted answers and he'd do whatever he could to get them. "Like you don't know it anyway. But, we are neighbours and as neighbours it was only a matter of time before you sailed over to me or vice versa. You had always been older than me, and...and I suppose for a long time I envied you and wanted to be like you. Besides from war, you were more modern than I by the time we met. You had clothing and food I could only have dreamed of, but no, I don't remember the exact date of meeting. It was a long time ago after all." an idea came to him then and he smirked to himself at such cleverness. "It's a shame though, isn't it France? We were very good friends when we were children, we taught each other a lot and for a long time were friends even when our people were not. Wouldn't it be nice to just be friends again and stop messing each other around?"

Francis blinked. "I'm not going to let you out until you're better."

"Oh bugger you!" Arthur exclaimed in anger. "You know I'm telling the truth, you bastard, why can't you just stop this charade? I have important work to do and so do you. Could you at least tell me what lesson you're trying to make me learn or whatever, because all of this is completely absurd. And for the record I plan to walk right out of here as I please."

"Arthur, I assure you, I am not trying to trick you. I am not playing a joke on you, or punishing you to make you learn a lesson and I won't be doing so at all. It seems you're not quite ready to talk yet, so we're finishing for today. You can go back to your room, or to the rec-room for relaxation if you wish." Francis pressed his call button. "Also if you try to leave, we will have to take steps to keep you here, legally you're required to stay."

Arthur growled as Sarah came in to collect him. He stood, livid but too confused to just beat the crap out of Francis like he wanted to. "This isn't over, France." he followed Sarah then, but chose to go to his room than sit with a bunch of loony's.

Arthur had nothing to do in his room however, there were no books, just the basics. He might as well have been in prison, apart from the comfort it was practically the same. There were even bars on the outside of his window. He didn't know why he hadn't left, maybe it was because he wasn't sure how deep this shit was and didn't want to sink any further, maybe it was that stubborn need to break Francis into pieces for messing him around. "I'm going to find out what's going on France, you can count on that."


	4. Theft

A week passed and Arthur was soon labelled as 'uncooperative.' Mostly because he refused to leave his room except to eat and use the loo. Well, he wasn't an animal and his room had no en-suite. Some rooms did, some didn't, Arthur didn't much care as the facility was wonderfully clean.

The Briton had thought a lot. Suppose for a moment, that he was insane? That his whole life had been one big lie made up by his mind. It filled Arthur with a sick dread. His whole spine seemed to become ice, the very morning he begun to let himself think about it was the morning he couldn't even bring himself to get up for breakfast. If his life were a lie and he were simply a human, then what had he actually been doing for all of his life? When he'd been fighting battles and surviving on his own wits as a child, what had actually been going on? He couldn't think of the answers and yet he couldn't stop thinking about his possible insanity.

Even so it all circled back to Francis and the need to get the truth from him. Arthur hoped that the truth wasn't that he was truly insane.

"Arthur?" Sarah had returned each day and now was no exception. However, she'd never come in and seen him still in bed. He'd always been up and dressed, as if their meeting was of some great importance. She feared this was a sign of him getting worse so when he didn't answer the second time, she went to speak with Francis and ask him if it would be best for him to go and personally see Arthur.

"You are not the doctor here, my darling." He'd purred to her, like she was some girl off the street he could charm away. "Leave such important choices to the professionals okay? Don't worry your pretty self, I don't want such a lovely dear to worry." it had made her feel slightly flustered inside. Francis' words and his tone of voice made a lot of people feel flustered, though not always in a good way. Still, now she was only angry at that judgement. So she didn't have some fancy degree, but she knew people and Arthur had hit a low.

"Arthur?" Sarah had returned, at least wanting to get him to eat breakfast.

Arthur turned and sat. "I'm not hungry...I'll just have dinner...actually, could I go and sit in the rec-room today?"

Sarah beamed and nodded before leaving so that Arthur could dress. Arthur did dress, but as he did so his eyes were on the door and the woman's shadow outside of it. When he saw another shadow join hers, Sarah's head poked back into the room. Arthur was still shirtless by this time. "Arthur, I need to tend another patient, I'll be right back."

Arthur nodded and she left him. After his first violence, he'd been more closely observed for the week (as was standard) and during that time he'd been calm, and even apologized to those he'd hurt. Arthur put on a shirt and left the room, but he did not go to the rec-room or to breakfast, he headed left. Even orderlies who passed didn't give him much attention, assuming he knew where he was going. Arthur exited the corridor through a set of double doors and perked up when one of the cleaners came by. She smiled at him and he smiled back.

Arthur continued on, following the curve of the building until he came to Francis' office. Now that he was here, he wasn't sure how he'd planned to get in. Arthur tried the handle, if it were open then the doctor would almost certainly be inside. It was open, but Francis was not sat obnoxiously behind the desk. Arthur scanned the room and saw a second door in the room, one almost certainly leading to a bathroom. It was closed, but he could hear small movements behind it. There was no way he'd know just how long Francis had been in there or how long he planned to stay in there, so Arthur moved quickly and headed to the desk. It was a large oak number, with six drawers. Three on one side of the leg room, three on the other and all locked. Arthur scanned the desk for the keys, nothing. A part of him told him he was being stupid, Francis might have left his door open but he wouldn't leave his keys around because a patient might just walk in seeking his guidance.

Still he searched under useless order forms and doodles the Frenchman had done between sessions. He gently pushed back Francis' chair and started to search the pockets of the jacket that hung there. Arthur's hand touched cold metal, and gripped around it. He felt the shapes and bumps that were unmistakably small keys and almost couldn't believe his dumb luck. His heart almost stopped at the sound of the toilet being flushed, his time limited, if the dirty frog was actually going to wash his hands. Arthur took the keys, only those for the drawers it looked like, the door was card activated anyway. He slipped them into his own pocket and then was gone.

When Francis came out, he noticed nothing at first. Humming to himself and thinking about the progress he'd made with the cat-obsessed young man who started to believe he actually was a feline that he was seeing next, Francis sat. Although Arthur had not pushed back the chair, Francis brought it in and sat without thinking about the change. There was no significant shift in the papers Arthur had looked under, so he didn't notice that either. However, Francis by chance looked up and frowned. His door wasn't closed all the way, it rested against the frame but not closed into it. The doctor stood and studied it a moment, before slipping out from behind his desk and going to shut the door. He'd turned back when he thought better of it and opened the door again, poking his head out. Nobody was waiting outside for him, though some passing gave him a good smile. Francis smiled back, but felt a stir of confusion and curiosity about the slightly opened door.

Sitting back down, Francis was forced to file that curiosity away for some other time so that he could actually get to work. Arthur meanwhile had made it back to his room with the keys. He took them out of his pocket and hid them under the small dresser he had. Hopefully, nobody would sweep them out from under there before he had a chance to use them. He needed to see what Francis had written about him, and any clues about exactly how this joke was being pulled off. Arthur was now just plain refusing to accept that he was insane, he knew what was real and what was not and doubting himself was just what France wanted.

Arthur sighed and allowed himself to be led to the rec-room when Sarah returned, not even a minute after he'd returned and hidden the keys, his heart hadn't even calmed down it's speed from the adrenaline. He sat himself down near a window, where the sun came in and warmed him. One of the other patients tried to engage a conversation with him, he replied but frosty, so his would-be friend lost interest and left him be. Arthur knew what was real, and he would stick by it. He knew his identity as England was as real as the sun on his face, as real as the chair beneath him and the clothes upon him.


	5. A plan in action

It was 5:31 pm on a sweet Tuesday afternoon, and Arthur Kirkland was remembering. He hadn't had time to do so during the day, between being forced to attend 'therapy' with Francis which went nowhere (around and around, the two playing with each other ) and then creative therapy afterwards. Arthur hadn't much gone for that anyway, but he'd drawn (or tried to draw) the house he remembered living in. He supposed they'd study it and try to understand its deep mysteries but it was just a house, no more and no less, except to the quacks. He's eaten without trouble and succeeded in being polite to both humans and faeries. Now, Arthur Kirkland sat in his room remembering.

He was remembering the very day before he'd been brought into this secure hospital, one week and almost two days ago. He remembered his house fully, it wasn't a very expensive place and in fact needed some work. There was a large crack in the upper right corner of the ceiling in the living room, a crack opened up by the damp that even then bulged the ceiling around the edges, making it look like badly applied wallpaper. The same kind of thing presented itself in Arthur's bedroom, but he refused to use his government's money to fix it or get himself a larger house. He was paid just around as much as an average office worker would get paid, as arranged. Each turn of the century or so that had changed in accordance to what occupation was popular at that time and thus would supply him with just enough money to live.

Arthur's memory side-tracked to his younger days, when people first discovered what he was and what he meant for them. They'd tried to harness his immortality, his magic, anything they deemed he was good for. Arthur himself had contemplated his existence a lot, and even now he didn't much know why the personifications existed, only that each nation no matter how small had one, and that a micronation needed one if it ever stood a chance at being recognised.

Arthur shook his head, looked down and noticed he was tying and untying the corner of his blanket into a knot. He put it down and fluffed up his pillow a little more to get comfortable and go back into his memory, trying to pick holes in it or find evidence. Of what? Of how he was right, and hadn't just hallucinated his whole life. Why his mind had chosen this memory he did not know, but he'd go with it since it wanted so much to be relived.

Arthur had made himself a big plate of spaghetti Bolognese that day. Nations didn't have to eat near so much as people did, so this was his first meal in around four weeks. Of course, some nations chose to eat everyday as often or more frequent than humans did. France for one, that food loving fool. Arthur however couldn't stand the chore of cooking, or the annoying necessity of going food shopping when things became low in stock. In fact, the only thing he bought often were tea bags, he did drink a lot of tea, often without thinking about it.

He'd made himself the meal that day despite not feeling hungry but supposing it was getting to a time where his unusual body would need the food. Present day Arthur mused on how little he ate and how if he'd been human, his body would have been a lot worse for wear because of it. He filed that away to tell Francis, the more evidence he presented the more he'd push Francis into a corner until he broke and ended this farce. He always ate in the living room because there was really no room in the kitchen. The plate was placed on a towel-covered plastic tray and so had the hot cup of tea. Back into the living room now and Arthur barely got through a quarter of the plate before realizing he wasn't going to eat the rest of it. He promised himself he'd eat it later and after downing the tea, went back to the kitchen and covered the plate before laying it aside on the dark marble counter top. He'd felt guilty then, because he knew he'd never eat it and would indeed end up putting it into the bin later that day.

Arthur yawned and came away from the memory, not entirely useful. He was trying to pass time, mostly. Pass time until it became late enough to sneak out. He was no longer locked in his room at night, let out only when he called for the loo, so that part would go smoothly enough. Arthur waited, his eyes wandering to his hiding place for the stolen keys. Had Francis noticed they were missing? He hadn't seemed to have in their session, then again he wouldn't show it would he?

Francis had indeed noticed that his keys were gone when he'd been unable to find them to open his drawers and get out his notes. He'd continued on making new notes on a pad already on his desk (a waste, he'd considered). After the session, he'd turned his room upside down for the keys, twice, before reporting the keys missing. When Arthur had come in, he was no more a suspect than anyone else, so Francis had kept himself professional.

At 8:48pm, Arthur woke without realizing that he'd dozed off. Cursing, he got up and stretched out. His spine cracked a little from where he'd been uncomfortably curled up. Arthur had no idea who was on duty now, he'd learnt from Sarah that they changed around at 9pm, which he only assumed it was close to or past, not being able to see the small clock on his wall despite hearing its relentless ticking.

Arthur walked forward, arms outstretched, till he softly connected with the wall. His hand glided over its surface until he found the light switch and turned it on. Green eyes squinted in the new light. Sarah stated that they had no true 'lights out' since some patients couldn't yet sleep without them on, or would sometimes need to turn them on after night terrors or during the grips of hallucinations to which they believed light would kill their made up monsters. Arthur waited for his eyes to adjust, from his years as a spy he'd learnt quickly that blundering forward when you could barely see would get you nowhere. You'd think that was common sense, but it was amazing how often people just wanted to rush when on a 'job'.

Once the Briton could see properly again, he approached the dresser and bent down. His hand only just fit underneath, snagging the loop that the keys were attached to, he pulled them out. Arthur hadn't noticed before, but they had a small tag attached to that loop as well, identifying them as Francis'. He thought for a moment of pulling that tag off, just in case he was found out, but that seemed a fruitless venture than would take more effort that was worth it, plastic tags were the devil.

Arthur wasn't particularly nervous, he'd done more dangerous things than this in his life. This was practically a breeze, hiding the small keys in his fist, Arthur left his room. He kept the light on and made sure to fully close the door, so it would seem almost that he was still there. A nurse was passing and he smiled at her, heading for where the bathroom was. She looked back at him. Arthur paused with his hand on the large cool handle of the bathroom, he rose the other hand and waved. The nurse stayed put, and he scowled at her, making it seem he was uncomfortable with her stares, before slipping inside.

What was her deal? Was she supposed to watch him go to the bathroom that way? If she stayed out there until he left and returned to his room, it would not only waste precious time but be a bit of a confusion for the camera's catching him going to the bathroom twice in quick succession. Oh yes, he knew of the camera, just as he knew at 9pm they changed everyone. Not just the nurses, but the guards who watched the cameras. He'd have a best ten minutes to quickly get to where he wanted to be and then he'd wing it to Francis' office. Ten minutes once it hit 9pm, and when he'd left the clock he'd glanced at had read 8:54pm.


	6. Almost perfect

The Briton looked at each tiny key and saw that they had small labels on them too, Francis had written letters on them in permanent marker. Arthur narrowed his eyes, trying to make them out. Was it a code? More simple than that, they were reminders of which key fit which drawer. Thinking back, Arthur recalled that small labels with letters had been under the handles of the six drawers too. Looking back at the keys and careful not to leave too many fingerprints (impossible by now, a fact he'd not thought of, how stupid of him) and held each key close to read. Eventually he found what he was looking for, a key labelled 'I-L'.

The Briton frowned, the drawers hadn't been all that big, which meant most of Francis' notes must have been digital. He'd just have to take what he could get. Arthur looked towards the door, time conscious now that he couldn't easily check it.

He let all the keys fall to the bottom of the split ring, holding it by the top. He grabbed the key labelled as 'A-D' and brought it around to the end of one of the coils of the split ring, forcing it under and then around again until it came off with a snap, the spiral closing again. Arthur put the end of this key in his mouth to hold it, working off the next key labelled as 'E-H' and putting that too in his mouth.

Arthur was aware that he'd started to sweat a bit, time really was short. He finally worked off the key he needed. Sitting down on the floor, he put down his needed key down on the floor and worked the other two back on. The 'A-D' key slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor. He picked it up and moved the other key closer as not to lose it. Putting the key back on, Arthur grinned in triumph and picked up the key for his drawer.

He knew he had to take the chance. He opened the door to the bathroom purposely, and found that although the corridor wasn't empty - the nosy nurse that had seen where he'd come from was gone. Arthur headed the opposite way to his room, making sure he held himself straight and interacted with the necessary smiles to all he passed. If he looked like he knew where he was going, then nobody would stop him and ask him what his room number was.

Arthur's heart started to pump hard in his chest. It wasn't a nervous rush of adrenaline though, more of excitement. He hadn't had this chance in a long time, a chance to do something he knew he wasn't suppose to. He was as much sneaking behind enemy lines now as he'd ever done. The Briton approached the door that led to the cleaners quarters, little more than a box room where they could rest and have drinks of tea before going back out and collecting their carts.

An orderly and a male nurse escorting a patient passed him. The nurse glanced at Arthur, who pressed himself to the side as if just waiting for them to pass so he could go to the rooms beyond. He tried to find a clock, how long until someone would notice his next move? Never a clock when it was needed...

Arthur opened the door the three other people had just come through, letting it swing shut on its own. It was the sound that the orderly and nurse expected to hear, the patient seemed too catatonic to care. Instead, Arthur let himself into the cleaners quarters. The same cleaner he'd before was having her break inside. Her reaction to his presence was delayed, as if she didn't quite dare believe a patient was here. With the cup of tea still posed close to her mouth, so opened it wide to yell out for help.

"No no! No no no...sshhh..." Arthur hurried to her. "I'm not dangerous, I found these in the bathroom." he held out Francis' keys to her, the one he needed to use was in his other hand, held loosely by his thumb and across his palm, so that he could keep his fingers straight and look mostly like he was holding anything.

"Oh...you should have given them to the receptionist, but I'll take them." Her eyes did not leave his, something she'd probably been taught to do and because he'd gotten very close to her, as if they'd known each other forever. Arthur handed them over without fuss.

"Well, I'll be off to bed now. Fancy not telling anyone I was here? I don't want to get in trouble for giving you some lost keys I found..." Arthur's voice dripped in sadness and it was all he could do to keep an arrogant smirk off of his face.

"Oh, sure, thanks." The cleaner didn't look like she really would keep silent, but Arthur had to trust she'd stay quiet long enough. He smiled and quickly left the room before heading back in the direction of his room.

Arthur let the smirk stay. Slight of hand was his speciality and as he'd handed over the keys, he'd taken the access card from her belt. Now he'd see the lies Francis was telling.


	7. Caught

Arthur's heart was like a war drum in his chest, heavy and steaming along to an aggressive and adrenaline fuelling pace. He reached Francis' office and slid the stolen card into the admission slot. The red light on the side flashed green and let him in. Arthur opened the door slowly and closed it just as slowly whilst holding the handle. Even the small click it made seemed way too loud and he took a moment to listen and see if anyone had heard. If they had, they weren't coming to see what was going on. And why should they? Even at night, doors were opening and closing all over.

Creeping over to the desk, he wished he'd found and brought a light. Too late for that now, he crouched down behind the desk. Arthur placed the key on the chair next to him, along with the card. Starting at the right hand side, Arthur let his eyes adjust to the darkness and make out the neat letters on the label just below the handle. His eyes moved down and when he found the right drawer, a grin crawled along his face.

'Outsmarted you again, frog-beard.' he thought to himself.

Arthur carefully picked up the small key, feeling his finger along the metal to make sure it was facing the right way. Arthur pressed his hand against the drawer, getting his face close so he could press the key into the lock. He missed it the first time and got it in the second. Arthur turned and...it didn't move.

For a moment, his heart almost stopped. He tried to turn it again and took it out, straining again to read the label on the drawer. It was definitely 'I-L' on the drawer. Arthur cursed, was it possible he'd picked up the wrong key when he dropped the other key on the floor? Completely possible, and idiot that he was he hadn't checked. No time to check now, he'd never get a chance to get those keys again.

Arthur stayed crouched, rubbing his temples and trying to think. He would have to leave the key here, it was useless now, completely useless. Arthur was about to stand up and leave when the light overhead came on.

Arthur held his breath. He hadn't even heard the door open, it was clearly a cold day in Hell since he (a trained spy) had been sneaked up on by a silly old frog.

"I can see your feet, come on out." Francis had stayed behind, he'd been working late and just gone for coffee. It was then the idea hit him that his key thief may try and get back into his office somehow.

The cleaner that Arthur had given the keys to had caught him drinking his coffee and wondering if he should stay away from the office a little longer and see what happened, she'd told him who had given back the keys and somehow Francis was not surprised. Arthur had designated him as an enemy from his fantasies. He couldn't be mad at the Briton, it wasn't like Arthur was thinking that way on purpose. Either way, Francis had headed back as soon as he'd gotten those keys and that information and noted that one was missing, although not the one for the drawer with Arthur's information - curiously enough.

Arthur stood, he couldn't meet Francis' eyes. "Okay, so you caught me. Now what, solitary?"

Francis slowly approached his patient. "Look at me Arthur, I want you to look up at me."

Arthur looked, eyes blazing in hate and humiliation.

"Good." Francis smiled. "Listen Arthur, you will be monitored after this and have some privileges taken, but for now I just want to talk about why you did this. Could you please come around here and sit down?"

Arthur did so, sitting, but still glaring as Francis moved to his side of the desk. He picked up the missing key and card that had once more been placed on the chair. "A cleaners card? She hadn't even noticed it was gone. You're quite talented, aren't you?" Arthur's didn't speak or even smile.

"Moving on...why did you want to get into my files? Anything on you, you're free to ask for." Francis saw shock come to Arthur's face, followed by bitter humiliation. Arthur followed his arms, muttering curses under his breath. "That's why, isn't it? You didn't think I'd give it to you."

"Something like that."

"Okay Arthur, you can go back to bed. I am going to trust you to go right back, even though I shouldn't. I can trust you, can't I?" Francis remarked as Arthur stood to leave.

"Yes you can." Arthur walked to the door, back stiff. He didn't turn, but spoke clearly. "You've won this round France, it shan't happen again."


	8. The start of real therapy

Arthur felt a wave of dizziness when he woke the next morning. He looked to his door and heaved a sigh. After returning to his room, a nurse had come and locked him in. Not Sarah, she'd been blamed for allowing him to sneak and get the keys in the first place. It would be a different nurse almost every time now. He heaved another sigh, big and fake and satisfying.

By that time, the information on what he'd done (and camera evidence showed some of how he'd done it) had already circulated among those who needed to know it. He would be watched carefully for another week and even after kept a closer eye on before. The new nurse (Betty, he thought her name was) had explained that from now on, if he were alone outside of his room, he would be escorted back if that was where he was supposed to be.

Arthur didn't mind, he was fuming. Firstly, he was mad at himself for not checking he'd picked up the correct key. Secondly, he was mad at Francis. Francis who had put him here, who was being cunning and trapping him in corners. Want to view your files? Sure, you are a real patient after all.

"Bollocks!" Arthur declared strongly out loud, slipping out of bed now that the dizziness was gone. He dressed himself and pressed the small call button beside his door. "I'm ready for breakfast." he told the male nurse (Shaun, he remembered that one) who came to get him.

Shaun talked too much, he chattered way too much as he walked Arthur to the mess hall and helped him collect his breakfast and sit back down. Arthur had tuned out almost right away, so had no idea what Shaun was talking about. "Could you not talk?" he asked eventually, wanting to at least eat in peace. The male nurse blushed, and Arthur felt a little sorry, he didn't look all that old or experienced.

After Arthur had finished eating, he was led back to Francis' room. "Good morning Arthur." the doctor greeted.

"I shouldn't be here." Arthur greeted in response. "You think I'm delusional, and it's highly recommended that delusional people avoid hospitalisation at all costs."

"You're rather smart, Arthur." Francis had been scolded himself, he hadn't been dealing with Arthur's condition correctly and only hoped to restore trust between the two of them. He had planned to do that from the start, not being able to predict that he would play a direct part in Arthur's delusions as a person he hated. "I'm sorry that's how I made you feel, honestly I was just curious about your beliefs."

"Bollocks."

"But from now on, I just want to talk about your life with you. After all, I only know what your brothers have told me but it's best to get things from the horse's mouth, right? I do not want to make you feel uncomfortable any more and we both know that just putting you on medications is ridiculous because you don't need them, you just need some time. What do you think about that?" Francis smiled, sure he'd recovered the situation a little bit.

"I think...you're a twat." Arthur replied, folding his arms.

Francis laughed. "Your sense of humour...my my." Francis wrote that down, not that he'd been called a twat but that Arthur was greeting him with hostility. "Anyway, your brothers, could you tell me about them? They are the ones who insisted you be hospitalised."

"Oh they would, wouldn't they? You've always been too close to Scotland for my liking." Arthur uncrossed his arms and leaned forward instead. He planned to be the one doing the trapping this time, he would give such clear answers that there was no way Francis could turn them on him.

"Scotland, I'm sorry but which one is that?" Francis had no idea which, though he had noted how each brother had moved to live in a different part of the UK and Republic of Ireland when they had been old enough.

"Alistair." Arthur grunted, like Francis didn't know. "Then there's Northern Ireland, Republic of Ireland and Wales. Older brothers, though with the way things are you can't often be exactly sure of anything."

Francis quickly tried to move away from the delusion. "And they all work?"

"Yes, but I do a bit more of the work than they are, also being the representative of the UK." Arthur replied. He saw a small look cross Francis face that looked almost pained and gave a crocodile grin. "Stuck, France?"

"No no, not stuck and it's Francis." The doctor wrote down in shorthand what he'd been told. "Where do you work Arthur? I'm assured your brothers have dealt with your leave so I won't talk in past tense."

"I work for the government, sorting out the things they can't be bothered to hire someone to do. Mostly paper-work, but I'm there with the prime minister or royals for important meetings or public shows." Arthur thought about his life a lot at that moment, Francis recognised that look of deep thinking and didn't disturb him.

His life was rather boring, when Arthur thought about it, he was called up when he was needed and then mostly for appearance. He'd rendezvous with other countries whilst their leaders spoke to one another and sometimes he had a say in what went on. Otherwise he existed just because he had to, as symbol as much as the flag was. Arthur sighed. "Anything else?"

"Let's talk more about your work, okay? You seem...unsatisfied..."


	9. Madness is catching

Arthur talked for a solid hour about his job as a nation and about the times he'd spent his days actually working. "To keep myself busy." he'd explained. "Sometimes life just get's boring and you know you've hit rock bottom when you miss the days when bloody battles were fought, at least there was something to do then!" Francis had listened attentively, sometimes taking notes and sometimes just chewing on the top of his pen. This was going to take longer than he'd thought, perhaps this wasn't just a simple delusion disorder.

Arthur truly did not seem to be able to remember his real life as a customer service worker, he was lost in his delusion. What Francis really needed to know was how he'd managed to keep up a real job and life at all. That was something it seemed he'd have to ask the family about, since Arthur's delusions had no break in them except perhaps the time he was talking about his office work.

"You said you worked for a company near Bingley?" Francis interrupted. "Uh? Oh yes, they had me answering phones, doing some filing...you know, that kind of stuff." Arthur shrugged. "Funny isn't it France? How people who know of us expect us to either be a government worker or in the armed forces. Not that we don't do such things, but hey hey-! We have to try and blend in don't we, can't be too important or the humans get jealous."

Francis scribbled that down, again upset that Arthur had gone from what could be normal talk straight back into the delusion. Obviously it was deeply ingrained in him, he'd needed this help and he needed hospitalisation. Francis knew he'd be criticized, told it was his fault Arthur was this bad because he was reinforcing in Arthur's mind that something was wrong with him.

Except as Arthur kept talking about the positions of nations, Francis realized that Arthur was not talking at all like he knew the things he was saying weren't real. When people came here with delusions, they usually had become aware that what they thought was real wasn't and just needed some help letting go of them. Arthur was different...Arthur...Arthur was almost making him believe in what he was saying. It was such an imaginative and detailed delusion, complete with hallucinations so greatly vivid that he'd lived his life in a daze of lies, going through the motions of normalcy as his mind stayed in the clouds.

Francis wrote one word down on his paper as a possibility, then added a question mark.

It read: 'Schizophrenia?'

"Our time is up Arthur, thank you for speaking with me and do remember to eat." Francis pressed the call button since Arthur still needed supervision. Arthur, chest swelled in confidence that he was wearing Francis down, was positively grinning as he was led to his room. "But what if he were telling the truth?" Francis mumbled to himself in French. "Would such a thing even be possible?" Francis thought about it long and hard. Arthur had said that their existence throughout history had been secret to almost everyone except leaders, so it would be possible that Francis and those in the hospital had not heard of such a thing. "But I'm not France, I'd know that." He cursed and powered up his computer to type up his notes in Arthur's file. If he kept thinking like that, _he_ was going to be the delusional one.

Francis returned home that night with Arthur still in his brain. He looked around his home and wondered...what if he was France and this was his delusion? What if he only thought this was his life and that Arthur,

(England)

_Arthur, _had been sent to try to get him back to reality? Francis laughed, he laughed to himself because the idea was so funny, so out there. Still, it ran in his mind, simply refusing to shut off. The possibility of it all became wider, all kinds of scenarios playing until Francis was dreaming of it.

Francis dreamt that he woke up in a house that wasn't the one he'd fallen asleep in, yet he knew it was his true home (it was a dream after all and you knew all kinds of things in a dream that you didn't when you woke, such as strange houses being yours even though you'd never seen them before). Sitting up, he saw framed pictures on the wall, some taken and some - oh dear lord - _painted. _

Francis got out of his bed to look at these pictures, pictures of him mostly. Portraits painted with him in clothes from eras he knew in the dream, but also knew he wouldn't once he was awake. "But what if I am awake now?" he spoke to his portrait. Other photos showed him in various armies, with leaders of France he recognised by face but not name, with people he knew he'd never have really met because they had just been way before his time. Each and every picture felt completely in place on his bedroom walls though, they made him smile, they were memories. "But some memories aren't here, because nothing for making pictures really existed back then." he assured himself in confident dream tones.

Ah! Here was the picture he'd wanted to see just as soon as his eyes had been drawn to him, the _pièce de résistance. _Francis took this photo off of the wall, it was very recent, very modern. In it he saw himself shaking hands with Arthur, with England, for a social gathering. He saw a spark between them, something between hate and understanding. "It's real."


	10. The next step

Arthur had gotten to Francis in ways he did not yet know. As he lay in bed the very same night that Francis had his vivid and disturbing dreams, he was hatching his own plans. Arthur had tried his magic here and it still came to him, still filled him up and made him tingle, but some law was stopping him from doing anything with it.

Arthur sat up and yawned, propping up his pillow vertically against the headboard and then laying on it so it could support his back as he thought. Arthur thought about the things he'd done and said, sure he was on the 'winning' side of whatever joke was being pulled but always aware he'd made mistakes. Some of them were mistakes due to how they had backfired on him, some because they hadn't worked when he'd been so confident they would.

Trying to get his files? Backfire, he'd been caught and nothing had come of them when he'd read them. Try to call Francis out on his bullshit? Both a backfire and something that hadn't worked because Francis was, or had been, very stubborn. Try to prove how he didn't even need to eat like a human? Couldn't even test it out because they'd make him eat. However, Arthur had started his push to victory and how? By simply going along with what Francis wanted him to talk about and calmly, logically, talking about his life as a nation.

Arthur had seen the confusion and fear in Francis' eyes, he knew he wasn't fooling Arthur now. Arthur shifted and put the pillow back down, he needed his sleep. Something didn't seem too right though, because why would Francis be scared? He didn't look scared to be found out, he looked scared that Arthur was telling the truth. Surely he hadn't convinced himself that they were human and the personifications didn't exist? No, it was something more than that.

But what?

Arthur was no mind-reader, but he could do something that would allow himself to know things that were hidden to him. It was time for some divination. He didn't want to see the future, just uncover the unknown. He was sure if he could draw his magic circle, he could make it work. He knew he wasn't going to get blood from anywhere unless he used his own and he was trying to appear sane. Chalk would do, and there was an art therapy room. Could Arthur convince Francis to let him do it? Probably...probably...Arthur lolled off to sleep on a wave of his own thoughts.

The next day, Arthur almost skipped into Francis' room. He sat down without his usual defensive posture (arms crossed, back either painfully straight or rebelliously slumped, eyes watching the wall rather than Francis most of the time). "You're not looking so good, doctor." he commented.

Francis had woken from his dream and not slept a wink the rest of the night. He'd dragged himself out of bed when his alarm had greeted him feeling like even the sleep he'd gotten had not refreshed him. The Frenchman had then spent the morning in a state of lethargy. He dragged himself from his bedroom (the same one he'd gone to sleep in, not the one from his dreams) and to the small bathroom just across the hall. "You look like shit." he told his reflection in the mirror above his sink, a distinctively less polite version of what Arthur would later tell him - and this would be_ after_ he'd tried to clean himself up.

Francis has started his clean-up by filling the sink with water and giving his face a good scrub to try and mask the dirty-sleepy look. He trimmed his beard and combed his hair with the comb he always kept in the cupboard under the sink. That had been a little better, but...Francis placed a hand over one of the dark circles under his eyes. Those would be noticeable and it had been a while since a woman lived here so there was no helpful make-up. Well, it wasn't a crime to not get sleep right?

Downstairs, Francis had managed three cups of coffee before leaving for work but apparently that hadn't pepped him up enough to hide from Arthur. Then again, Arthur seemed way too interested in making Hell for him anyway.

"I didn't sleep last night, not really." Francis replied, clearing his throat and drinking from a small glass of water he'd brought with him. His thirst wasn't quenched by that, he was really craving something more alcoholic like a nice wine. That would come later though, later. Too much later. Francis sighed inwardly and put on a smile. "Anyway, why don't we start? How about telling me more specifically about your brother's and family life?" Family, a safe subject, surely.

"Honestly I'm not sure what else you want to know." Arthur gestured as he spoke. "I told you who they are and I assume you don't want to know their entire history. Did we get along? Certainly, as well as siblings who are countries can. Which is to say...we fought a lot and still bump heads occasionally nowadays. I suppose there were times when we were just happy but memory is such a fickle thing when you live so long." Arthur was already gearing himself up, now he was going along this path he felt wired, electric, in charge. "Our bodies may not age or age very slowly, but the mind is another thing altogether. Our minds are our most human parts and they age day by day, maybe even second by second."

"What is most important is that they kept going long after our bodies stopped ageing, when that may be. As such, we're just as susceptible to memory loss and problems as humans are. Of course...that's where it get's strange. There are nations that have selective memories, that remember some things one day and not the next and yet things they hadn't know are suddenly clear to them. How do our minds work? I guess it would all depend on how human minds works and even that we do not know. I'm sorry, I started to ramble. What were we on about?"

Francis had taken no notes, just sat and listened to Arthur talk. His dream ran in his mind and Francis put down his pen. "I think I'm ill, and it's about time I had a holiday."

"What?" Arthur hadn't expected that. Was he giving up?

"This is our last session for at least a week, I'm afraid Arthur, so could we not go off topic again?" Francis replied in a much blunter way than Arthur was used to.

"Oh sure, well whilst we're at it could you refer me over to art therapy? I really enjoyed it before." Arthur gave his best and most innocent smile.

"Yes yes, whatever...I'll refer you...look I'm sorry, could we cut the session short?" A headache had come up, nasty and fierce.

"I'll be fine with that. Yes, very fine." Arthur grinned.


	11. Under the eyes of the bird

Francis sent a note to refer Arthur to a few sessions of art therapy. A few of the other doctors there muttered about this, about how Francis was losing his touch and how art therapy wouldn't be helpful for a delusional person. However, they had no power to go against it so Francis hardly cared. Besides, they didn't know about Arthur, he wasn't an ordinary delusional patient, not by a mile.

The Frenchman had not taken a break in a long time, so there was no quarrel over a week of earned time off. Francis felt it would do him the good he needed, that the only reason Arthur had gotten to him was because he was so stressed. That in fact, any other new patient could have had the same effect. Swaddled in his lie, he bid adieu to his colleagues and left. Next week would be better, he'd be fresh of mind and body and be able to properly help Arthur.

Arthur meanwhile, was starting to truly believe that Francis was not trying to joke with him at all. His 'act' was too honest, but the usually intuitive Briton had no other ideas about what was going on then. Was it possible this was another universe...? Ha! Poppycock, such things didn't exist. Even he who believed in magic and regularly opened portals to Hell did not believe in such things as other universes, or if he did he didn't believe they'd be this identical. But of course, just because Arthur had never experienced another universe before didn't mean they didn't exist.

Arthur wished that Francis has stayed, he was the only one here that resembled someone from the place Arthur knew whether he were exactly the same person or not.

The next day he was collected and led to the art therapy room. There were others there as well, three in a group being led on a specific activity and two more being allowed to draw as they pleased whilst being monitored. It was that which Arthur had done before, when he'd drawn his house, and before people much knew what to do with it. It was to this free-art he went again, choosing chalk as his medium. The doctor who watched him was a bird-looking women with eyes as sharp as her nose. Arthur did his best to ignore her for the first part of the session.

Occasionally his eyes flickered to the clock on the wall (which was decorated with patient art, Arthur guessed that said patients were probably long gone from here) aware that his time was growing short. He drew and coloured circles absent-mindedly. Arthur took a deep breath and then, took a chance. He knocked a few pieces of chalk to the ground and dipped to pick them up. The green, yellow and blue were held in his hand, but the black slipped into the inner lining of his sleeve's cuff.

"Are you okay there?" His watcher asked.

Arthur sat back up. "Yes, just had a hard time getting the blue." he lied, and placed them back on the table. He coloured only with his left hand from them on, but if she noticed she did nothing about it and Arthur was pleasantly led out at the end of the session.

"Can I go back to my room?" Arthur asked.

"It's almost lunch time, how about we go there first?"

"No, I really want to go back to my room, I don't like going early." Arthur insisted.

"Come on Arthur, going early means you can get your food first." she coaxed.

Arthur scowled, sure she knew something. He sighed and nodded, stopping at the bathroom. "Can I at least go here?" he huffed. She nodded, not able to deny him that. Arthur slipped into the bathroom, wishing it had a lock on the inside. He took out the black piece of chalk that already stained his sleeve a little. He broke it in half, placing half back in his sleeve lining. The only half went into his underwear, held hard against his inner hip. It was comfortable and would probably make a mess there, but never mind.

Coming back out he gave her a smile and watched her as they walked just as much as she watched him. "Doctor Stevens, are you free?" someone called to her and Arthur shifted the chalk in his underwear to a new more comfortable position. At this point, he was wishing he had a nice pair of breasts and a bra to hide the chalk in.

"No sorry, I'm here with Mr Kirkland, taking him to get his dinner." she didn't smile once, that bothered Arthur a little. It also bothered him how she was clearly following him because she knew about the chalk, otherwise why waste her precious doctor-y time?

Even so, he carefully picked up his tray and went through the motions of eating with his left hand. Arthur's dignity was suffering from this, his eating not the best without his preferred hand. Finishing as quickly as he could, he allowed himself to go through the embarrassment of putting the tray away and walking back. Arthur could feel her excitement growing, her feeling of power over him.

"Wait a second Arthur, before you go back into your room can you show me your sleeves please?" Now, Doctor Stevens did smile, and it was as bird-like as the rest of her.

Arthur decided to play her game and put his hands behind his back. "Why? They're just sleeves..."

"Please? I just want to check something. You don't have anything to hide, do you?" They all knew of his little thieving adventure, so it wasn't a surprise she was suspicious of him. Arthur let out a whine and held out his sleeves, watching her check the wrong sleeve to make it look fair and then to the right one, removing the chalk. Arthur looked down, pretending to be embarrassed. "Now Arthur, you know that the art things need to stay in the art room okay? You can go back tomorrow so there is no need to steal. Okay?"

Arthur looked up and nodded. "Good, see you later."

Arthur shivered and entered his room, hoping that didn't mean she'd be taking over his therapy sessions for Francis.


	12. Plan in motion

As Arthur had theorized, the chalk had left a good dark smudge on his skin and the fabric of his pants. The mess on his skin could at least be rubbed away, he'd have a harder time explaining the stain on his clothing if they asked about it. He hoped that by that time, he'd be long gone anyway. Arthur undressed, the half a piece of black chalk on the pillow of his bed. Dropping the clothing to the side to be picked up later, he dressed himself in something fresh and then picked up the chalk piece, placing it in his breast pocket. He then picked up the discarded clothing and neatly folded him before placing it atop the dresser.

Arthur observed the space that he had and clucked his tongue, it simply wouldn't do. If he used the space before the door, then what he had planned would be spotted too easily. It could take a while for it to be fully completed, something needed to hide it. The Briton got down on his knees and inspected the bed posts, finding that it wasn't screwed down. Awarding himself a small smile, he stood back up and gave the bottom of the bed a strong yank. The bed screeched and came away from the wall and Arthur paused.

The hospital was filled with plentiful sounds, voices giving out cries of murmuring to each other. Trolleys of supplies being pushed away, going squeak-rattle-squeak along the floor and through the doors. The doors opening and swinging shut with a rush of air and an occasional beep going off to alert someone to a patient. Those noises that formed the background hum had not stopped even a second when the new sound of the bed screeching had joined them. Good, even so he couldn't do this move all in one because the louder and longer the noise, the more likely it would be heard and then someone would come to investigate.

Arthur was sure that if someone did come, he could lie his way out of trouble, but they'd still push the bed back causing him to have to start again and a second lie wouldn't swim as well as the first. Arthur gave the bed a second yank backwards until the top of it was clear of the chest of drawers. He looked towards the door, then moved to the side of it again, the one facing the door. Gripping the cool metal of its side, Arthur yanked once more and brought it forward. The metal scraped against the wooden drawers and peeled away some of the varnish.

Arthur cursed and stopped pulling, inspecting the damage. It couldn't be helped now, only extra damage stopped. Arthur yanked it from the bottom again. It was now almost pressed against the opposite wall, the room much longer than it was wide. He knew different rooms were other sizes, and wished he had one of those.

Getting back to the side, the next pull did not cause more damage and Arthur was glad. He kept moving the bed away from the wall until it became too tiresome to pull. Scooting his way over the bed he pushed it from that side, back braced against the wall and feet against the bed. Once it was a sizeable amount away from the wall and almost further than his legs could stretch, Arthur stopped and looked at the space he'd given himself. The floor was laminated and Arthur could feel the under-floor heating powering up as he sat.

The lamination would work fine and be easy to clean...hopefully. Arthur took the chalk out of his pocket and started to painstakingly draw his first outer circle. "Blasted thing, why is it so hard to draw?" the circle had to be perfect, so Arthur kept using his sleeve to erase it when he felt it had gone wrong. There was also the case of not making the circle too big, the bed still had to cover it. The Briton strove on, as soon as this was done he'd be one step closer to escape.


	13. Interlude: Arthur's thoughts

Arthur finished both the inner and outer circles before the evening meal, leaving the bed out as he knew it would take some effort to get it back and the more he waited before going to eat the more likely someone would come and fetch him. That was not something he could have risked, so the risk had been leaving it out and hoping that nobody came along to inspect it. It had really been the lesser of two evils. He was also worried that he might not finish in time and the weekly clean would end his plan in one swift stroke of a probing brush.

After eating so fast he'd almost given himself hiccups, he'd been taken aside to be told that the vulture from before would indeed be over seeing his therapy until Francis returned - oh the joy. Returning, Arthur's heart had been somewhere in his throat but the bed was undisturbed from his moving it and no one was waiting to ask why he'd drawn two perfect little chalk circles.

They weren't ordinary circles of course, as soon as they were complete Arthur had filled them with his magic. A doubt came to him again, had he done that? Had he used his magic or only believed he was? He supposed he'd find out once it was all complete. In the mean time he had pushed the bed back, the frame as cold and unforgivably smooth as it had been the first time but this time he'd had to make sure he lifted it so that he would rest on the circle, but not rub it away. Arthur did not look forward to moving it back out the next time he had chance. The chalk he had hidden in his drawer, under the fresh underwear.

Yes, he'd see. In a way he'd already accepted that this circle would be the full proof he needed. If the spell worked (and the knowledge he'd gain would only be useful when Francis returned) then he'd be able to really freak Francis out as well as free himself from where he was. If not and the knowledge would fake, he was likely to be in here for a very long time. If such an event would occur, then Arthur would gladly accept the help.

It was a thought that chilled him, that he very well might be insane, that his whole life was a lie and he'd have to be birthed back into this new life (which was actually his real life) and deal with whatever came from it. As such the therapy to come did not bother him, he'd already learnt how to play this woman after all. The fake therapy was not the important part of this at all.

The important part was that he had to be strong, he had to believe in himself or the magic wouldn't work even if it was real. He was the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, often shortened to his real nation-sake of England and nothing could take that away from him.


	14. Suspicious magic

It took Arthur a whole week to complete his circle of power. It had been such a pain to him, dragging the bed back and forth and then exhausting himself further by putting his magic into the chalk drawings. He was thankful he'd memorized each rune by that time, or else he'd be stuck. There was no way he'd convince anyone that his book of magic was needed for his mental health here. He wondered if Francis would be back soon? He hoped so.

Yet...as Arthur lay in bed that night, his secret circle mostly hidden beneath the bed, he couldn't help but wonder what he'd do if his attempts only told him that he was crazy. Worse yet, tomorrow was cleaning day. Each room got a basic clean every other day, but tomorrow someone would do it top to bottom and than included under the bed where his very erasable chalk circle was.

Arthur woke himself up very early. He could hear some sounds of other people already awake, most likely employees of the place and insomniacs. This made the bed moving a larger chore, one little scarp and then sound would carry like nails on a chalk board. Arthur got out of bed and dressed before taking hold of the bed. Now his circles are complete it was always a matter of lift and twist and pull. It smudged the chalk still but not as badly as it could have.

With a deep breath filling his lungs, Arthur started on the bottom and managed to get it around. It still hid the circle, which was good. Better still when a voice from behind him made him jump.

"What are you doing Mr Kirkland?" It was unmistakably the voice of dear old bird-face Doctor Stevens.

Arthur turned to her with a very forced smile, his hate large and burning. It was because she was so unthinkably nosy. She had probed at him relentlessly in their sessions, without any patience. She though herself so clever for finding the chalk, when Arthur had already been able to outsmart her. He supposed she was very good at her job and only doing it as she had to, but that didn't mean he wouldn't go on hating her. No sir. "Rearranging my room? I thought that was obvious. I'd like a bigger room, too. If that could be arranged."

It was his attitude that convinced for the time being that he really had just gotten up early and decided that his bed needed moving. It wasn't the strangest thing she's seen someone do, she still remembered one woman who'd not slept until her room had been repainted a darker colour.

"It's very early, doctor." Arthur commented. "Or I assume so. I couldn't sleep because of the beds position being wrong. Why are you here?"

"Oh, I wasn't checking up on your personally, don't worry." reassured him in a cool soothing voice. "I wouldn't do that I assure you, I was just passing by when I heard you moving around. I wanted to make sure you were okay since like you said, it's very early." she herself didn't really have to be here for another two hours, but liked to get an early start. "Do you need help moving things? It could be a while before we can get you a bigger room and we want you to be comfortable."

"No thanks, in fact it looks fine here..." Arthur tried not to look at the bed too much, anything might clue her to look under it.

"Okay then, try to get some sleep, goodbye."

Arthur watched her go and shot mental daggers at her back. He made sure she'd truly gone before moving the rest of the bed out. Fixing the smudges with the chalk now so small he had trouble gripping it at all, Arthur sat in the middle and started to softly chant.

Light started to shimmer on the surface of the chalk drawings he'd made. It filled up the circles first and then dripped into the runes like ink, all the time growing brighter. The lights in the building started to flicker, making those at the reception desk and pretty much anyone awake look up and frown. Arthur chanted faster, his pulse racing as magic surged into him and images spilled into his mind, showing him the truth. The circle of power shone so brighter than anyone looking in would only see the outline of Arthur at it's middle. Arthur yelled out the final part of the spell and the entire building seemed to shudder.

Patients woke and cried out, demanding to know what was going on. Had there been an earthquake? Some needed to know just to make sure they hadn't imagined it, others knew they hadn't and were alarmed at the prospect of being in a sudden danger zone.

The light from the circle died instantly like a switch being pressed, only Arthur's eyes continued to glow for a moment. "Hmm...that's interesting..." he knew what he had to do now.


	15. Belief

"Good evening Francis." Arthur purred as his old doctor finally came in and sat behind his desk again. Arthur had no interest in what had been said about his progress, if all went well he'd be home soon and away from the many people who thought he was nuts. Arthur could see that Francis no longer feared him in that special way he had before, but he counted on that changing very soon if he was going to be believed. All he had to do was keep his cool and not allow Francis to sway him.

"Hello Arthur, I hope you haven't missed me too much?"

"Non." Arthur replied, struggling not to smirk at the strange flicker than went across Francis' face when Arthur spoke that simple French.

"Listen, I have something to apologize for." Arthur sat forward in his chair a little, studying Francis' passive face even down to the faint dark circles under the good doctors eyes. "You're not France, but you are his counterpart in this world."

"Arthur..." 'Don't start with another wild story' he wanted to say, but that would have been rude and unprofessional and he'd already been too unprofessional here. From now on he'd only do what was focused towards bettering Arthur's mental health - or so he told himself. "I'm not sure this train of thought is any healthier than the last."

"Oh I agree!" Arthur sat back again, the weary look of frustration he'd seen in a single second on the others face was not what he wanted. Time to call out the big guns, the secrets he'd been shown that to most would mean nothing but might just save his skin here. "The last train of thought was unhealthy, but this one is the truth. Tell me Francis, do you still have that ugly old lamp your mother gave you?"

"Ex-excuse me?"

There, that was what Arthur wanted. That look of uncertainty, the sight on his face that stated he didn't want to believe what he was hearing yet had to.

"You know what I mean Francis. Your mother bought you a lamp for your study when you moved to this country, but it had a horrible flower pattern all over it, including the large shade. You think it's too old-fashioned to use as a study lamp, but you get it out and put it in place when she comes around, so she won't be sad. In reality you have a modern lamp to use when you're in there. A bright red one that has three settings and works by touching it rather than a button. You almost knocked it over the day before your twenty fourth birthday and dreaded you'd have to use the ugly lamp." Arthur explained, looking Francis in the eyes the whole time.

"Bullshit!" Francis stood. "There is no way you could know that, who told you?" but even he knew that nobody knew all of those details, he'd been too ashamed of himself for being ungrateful. Already he'd broken his private promise to be professional but there was no going back, something spooky was going on again.

"Nobody told me but spirits." Arthur replied calmly. "I did what magic I could here, but in order to get back I need a few things. Now, will you sit down and let me explain? Then maybe you'll help me."

Francis felt like his legs were going to give way, never mind sitting down. Still, by some miracle, he made it to his seat and wished he had a cigarette or something like that. "First...I want to know this is real. What's my favourite colour?"

"Red, but only if it's dark, otherwise white which you think is simple and pure."

"...what was my first word?"

"Salut, your parents were just glad it was a nice word even if you hadn't said one of their names first. You used to say 'salut' to everyone and everything you came across."

Francis took a deep breath, resting both elbows on the desk and massaging his temples. "Okay I believe you. Tell me what's going on."


	16. Other worlds

"I'll explain it to you, but you have to listen and it will take more than our usual hour." Arthur felt good about this. He felt in control again and no longer like he could either scream at everyone and everything at a moment's notice or else move through life in a memory-less lethargy. In fact at that moment, he couldn't recall half the days he'd spent in the secure hospital before he'd gotten himself into gear. It very well could have been longer than he'd thought, or not near so long. Time was a funny thing.

Francis softly inclined his head in a nod, saying nothing but still giving his word that he would listen. A lump had gathered in his throat and though he tried his hardest, he couldn't swallow it down. Part of it was because he believed Arthur and part was because he didn't want to. That was the largest part, the part that made his skin cold but sweaty, the part that said _'How dare he do this! How dare he challenge and change our view of the world! How dare he go against logic! How dare he disrupt our pleasant life where everything can be explained by science!'_

"There are...at least, four worlds that I know which exist and which have a...copy, of the same person, on them." Arthur began. "The best way I can explain it is, there is a version of me from my world, a version that is supposed to be here, and two more of me on each of the other worlds. Sometimes there is very little change in the copy, sometimes very big changes. My world is the world of nations." Francis leaned a little closer, his stomach tight. He wanted to leave the room, go to the bathroom maybe, but at the same time, he also wanted to hear it all.

"In my world I represent the nation of England. You believe me now right? That it's not just a delusion?"

"I believe."

"Good...then I'll continue." Arthur smiled. In parody to Francis, he was laid back in his chair, completely relaxed. He'd always liked telling stories, but it had been a long time since he'd had anyone to tell any kind of story to. This would do. "In my world, you represent Francis. I've not seen any other nations here, though that nurse who first was with me...Sarah? she's a fresh template, I can feel it. In other words I could search my whole world and I wouldn't find another her. She'll be useful later."

"You're getting off topic." Francis coughed, the lump still not dislodging.

"Sorry..." Arthur chuckled. "Anyway, in my world there is also such a thing as magic although it's not very widely used or believed any more. I believe that accidentally, probably whilst trying to do something else, I switched places with the me who lived in this world. However, the world is so similar I didn't notice and must have let something slip whilst with my brothers that made them believe I was mad. But...I also believe that the other me, be his name Arthur or not, also knew of me and spoke of me as though I were himself. Which means that this world and mine must be very close. Maybe they won't be close forever, but they are now. Which is why I need to get back as soon as I can and return him here. To do that I need the specific items I listed." he pointed to a side of paper he'd scribbled his needs on.

Francis thought to make a comment on how a person can accidentally get a spell wrong and end up in another world, but didn't want to push his luck. "And the other two worlds?"

"Hm?"

"You said that you knew of at least four worlds."

"Oh yes, there's a world where the sex of everyone is reverse and a world where it's post-apocalyptic and everyone's just getting back on their feet but that doesn't matter." Arthur stomped a foot. "What matters is that I'm not supposed to be here, God knows how the me from this world is doing or if I can go back. I need to at least try, can you get those things for me and a space where I can do the spell, without interruption?"

"I can..."

"Excellent."


	17. The doctor steps out

Arthur's demands weren't particularly eccentric, so Francis had no trouble providing him with the items he needed. A bowl of water, a blooming plant, incense that smelled like a natural summer breeze and a candle to be lit when Arthur was ready. He also gathered more chalk for Arthur, black again. In fact there was only one item he'd had trouble getting, and it made Arthur both anxious and frustrated.

"I need it to help me." Arthur muttered as he bent down to draw his circles and ruins on Francis' office floor. That was okay, Francis would take his other patients to a different room for their sessions. Arthur had been working tirelessly on this huge magic circle for days now. He'd only been away from doing it when he needed to eat, sleep or Francis couldn't monitor him. Francis instructed all cleaners to leave his room alone until his experiment with Arthur was over, and they had. "Surely it can't be too hard to get? I've given you the exact location."

"So you have..." Francis tapped his fingers on the edge of his desk as he sat beside it, watching Arthur's eyes move as he traced the marks his hands were making with the chalk. "It's the weekend tomorrow, I can try and get it then but I don't guarantee. Will it really not work without such a thing?"

"Are you playing the pronoun game with me, or are you afraid to say what it is?" Arthur asked, looking up. There were deep dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, he'd been too filled with energy for sleep, so close to going home as he was.

"Fine, do you really need the photo?" Francis had grown to almost...like, Arthur. He was a stubborn old mule, but his attitude was fun to bounce off of, they fit each other well in a strange kind of friendship-rivalry. Arthur had informed him that their relationship in the other world was much the same as it were here.

"Yes." Arthur moved away, his wrist and legs were aching and he needed to sit down, but not on the chalk. He sat outside of it, looking like a coal miner with black soot smeared on his hands, clothing and somehow across one cheek and his forehead too. "There are a few kinds of portals. Summoning portals and travel portals are the most common though. A summoning portal does as it says on the label, it pulls something of your choice from some other place to the location you have specified. In such a way, it doesn't have to be summoned straight to your portal, though success will be higher if you do. The summoned thing can be whatever you please, wherever you please, so long as you can visualize either what you want or where it should be. So say I wanted a cat...well, maybe I know my neighbour has a cat. I can imagine his house, but I'd have to imagine the cat too to get the cat specifically and write the ruins for such an animal. Sounds complicated and it is, that's why it goes wrong so much, especially if you try to summon a demon. Of course, you could be lazy and summon say...a beer from your own fridge." he chuckled. "This is a travel portal. It'll take me from here, to the home that exists for me back in my world. I need the picture so that I can visualize and chant about the changes that mark it as different from my home in my own world. Understand, weirdy-beardy?"

"Yes, but I don't understand why you felt the need to run your mouth in that long-winded explanation, Eyebrows." Francis replied with a small smile curling in the corner of his mouth.

"Tsk tsk doctor, speaking to a patient in such a manner, I can feel my mental health slipping away."

"You mean it's not already gone?"

"Why you-!" Arthur fumed and then huffed. If this had been his France, a fight would have ensued. "Just get the picture for me."

-!-

Francis pulled up his Vauxhall Corsa to the curb outside of the house that Arthur had given him the address to. It was no different a house than the many others on the street, except perhaps the key factor that it was the only fully detached house there. As such, it seemed almost out of place in it's lonely nook in at the end of the road which Francis supposed probably counted as a cul-de-sac. Driving down to it, Francis had gotten the queer sensation of the houses either side of it being the teeth of some large beast, which would make 'Arthur's' house either the uvula, or the throat.

The doctor had brought a camera with him, a Samsung st90. A good little camera for taking good little photos of houses so that possibly crazy British men could try and teleport themselves to another dimension in which they personified a land mass. Francis chuckled to himself and got out of the car, no longer afraid of this strange street with it's even strange end house. He locked the door behind himself and strode up to the building. It seemed deserted, but most houses always did. Francis made his way around the owners own car (Francis wasn't sure what kind it was, only that it was a Honda), and knocked on the red-painted wood of the glass-panelled front door. There were a plaque up next to the door, with the houses number crowning Laurel and Hardy. Interesting...

Francis knocked again when he wasn't answered the first time and this time a teenage girl answered. "Hello there, are your parents home?"

The teenager looked Francis up and down before closing the door and retreating. He heard her call to her mother and insist she had no idea who was at the door. He also heard clear as day her mother saying that her daughter should tell him they didn't want to buy anything or switch their provider for anything. The daughter returned but Francis interrupted before she could speak. "My name is Francis Bonnefoy, I'm a doctor at the local secure hospital. I'd like to speak to your mother about participation in an experiment."

This got the mothers attention. The portly woman came striding out from her living room. "Laura, go upstairs." the daughter gave Francis a look of mistrust, snorted and disappeared up dark-green carpeted stairs. "What kind of experiment?"


	18. Moment of truth

It didn't take much to convince the woman who owned the house to allow him to have a picture of the front of the house. She was charmed by Francis' talk of helping his patients, of wanting to do just about anything to ease their broken minds and how very much this would help a particularly disturbed young man. Francis thanked her for her allowance and went back outside. He stepped back behind their own car and took out his little red Samsung st90 and snapped a clear picture of the house that had most certainly never belonged to one Arthur Kirkland.

Mrs Wood, for that was her name, waved at him from the window and he waved back before slipping back into his car. He put the camera in the glove compartment and pulled out until he could turn out of the cul-de-sac and set back towards the secure hospital.

The day had become pleasantly warm and sunny, 25 degrees Celcius outside but a rather less pleasant 28 in the car that had sat in the sun a while. He supposed it would have been worse if it hadn't half been in shade. Francis opened the drivers side window, the rush of air blowing his hair back from his face like fine gold threads.

The Frenchman's mind was rather busy as he drove. Although he had taken this picture to pacify Arthur, he already knew it would all end in upset for the Brit. He'd done a lot of his own research during the time he'd taken off and Arthur had seemingly been allowed to grow his delusions unheeded. Out of the two of them, Francis had to consider himself to be the most sane and the most correct and only wished that Arthur's family had dealt with the shame of him a little better. Some people really were very careless with those loved ones that were less than perfect, to which Francis really meant they were cruel and didn't deserve to have Arthur re-released to them at any time.

It took him a good couple of hours with the late afternoon traffic to get back to the car park of his work place. Francis pulled up in the space reserved for him and got out, taking the camera with him.

Strolling in, he allowed himself through the usual checks, feeling cheery and close to a break through with this man. He went to his office and printed out the picture, looking to the curiously drawn circle on the floor with its pagan items surrounding it. What had Arthur said? They represented the four elements and he would be the fifth to make it work. Francis looked down at the picture. Would Arthur's spell really open up a portal to a different version of this house, one that he owned? Well, they'd see, they'd see.

After the patients had had lunch, he called for Arthur again. Arthur had been anxious all day, believing that Francis may double-cross him and not go for the picture at all, or even just get a picture of a random house from the internet just to spite him - or make him out as stupid.

"Do you have it?"

"And a good afternoon to you too, Arthur." Francis replied, handing over the picture. Arthur's face lit up in delight.

"You really went and got it, haha! Good on you, frog." Arthur grinned and placed it neatly in the middle of his circle.

"I would take that as a compliment if not for it ending in an insult, you damned Eyebrows." Francis snorted. It was still very unprofessional for him to insult Arthur even if they did have good banter between them , but there was no one here to pull him up about his code of conduct.

"Ah well, you'll see soon. I'm about to blow your mind." Arthur insisted. Francis looked outside and saw dark clouds rolling in to obscure the sunny day with its bleak reality. You couldn't ever really count on continuous good weather in his country, he supposed. Turning his attention back to Arthur, he saw those deep green eyes watching him very intently.

"Please, continue."

Arthur took a breath deep into his lungs. "Hail to the guardians of the watchtowers of the North, East, South and West. Hail to the beings of Water, Fire, Earth and Air. Hail to the Being of Spirit in all life!" the room lit up brilliantly and cracked up with fractured forks of colour. Francis bit his lip and his heart hummed out a faster pace in his chest. "Hail to you and hear me! Open up the folds of time and space, allow me to return to my rightful place! As the Spirit flows through me, let it be so, open up...NOW!"


	19. Listen to me

Francis' room lit up with brilliant forks of colour and for a moment, Francis could taste the iron-like flavour of blood on his tongue. Arthur stood triumphant before his portal for a moment, arms raised majestically to either side of him. This lasted only the barest moment however, the flash of lighting the storm had produced left them and instead the two were enclosed in darkness pierced only by a rumble of thunder.

Arthur lowered his arms when he realized that his portal had not opened. Wind from the slightly open upper window had gust in and blow out his candle and another fork of lighting did not recreate the mood and effect the first surprise one had. "I...I don't understand...I must have drawn a rune wrong, yes that's it, that's most certainly it..." Arthur got on his knees and fumbled for his chalk in the dark. Francis rose, his shoes clacking slightly on the laminate flooring as he switched on the main light. Arthur hissed and shielded his eyes against the glare.

"Arthur." Francis spoke his name firmly but the Englishman did not listen, just went back to checking and re-drawing his runes on the floor. "Arthur." Francis walked forward now and bent down beside him. "Arthur, stop." he reached out and gently took hold of Arthur's wrist. "It's over Arthur. It was never going to work."

Arthur's face turned away from the floor and up to Francis. It was not filled with anger, but great fright and upset. This had been the final test of truth and he had failed it. He knew he'd drawn everything right to what he knew, it hadn't worked because magic wasn't real. He had to face that, even his stubbornness was not that thick. "I..." Arthur's voice broke and his eyes swam with moisture. Before he could cry, he pushed himself into Francis' arms. Francis sank down onto his knees from his crouched position and held Arthur firmly without a word. Another fork of lightning struck, turning out the lights and causing the dimly glowing back-up lights to come on. The two men were a silhouetted against the window and for a while, all they did was embrace.

It was two hours and thirty-two minutes later that the main lights came back on. Arthur was nursing a cup of tea, holding it needless tight as his whole body shook lightly. Francis was sat in his own chair, moved to be beside Arthur's. "It occurred to me in my time away that showing you the truth was better than telling you. I'm sorry that it had to go this far, I just needed you to see." Francis began. Arthur rose the cup to his lips and took a sip, his eyes staring out towards the window but tilted in attention to Francis.

Francis sat back, not sure Arthur wanted touching in this state. "Your record with us is new, but I soon found other records of you from other institutes and secure hospitals. It seems that your brothers thought it best to keep moving you around. I suppose they thought it would be less shameful if the facility you'd been in believed you to be better...but you weren't. I don't think you can be for a while. Arthur..." he paused to make sure that Arthur was still listening, the Brit twitched a little to indicate that he was and Francis somewhat feared that he was going into a depressive episode.

"Arthur, I think I've learnt enough about you to give you a proper diagnosis. Recently we've seen you in a manic episode. I saw a great improvement in your self-esteem, you were extremely talkative to me as you worked as though you were pressured to talk, and of course you were so entirely directed towards your goal that you weren't sleeping very much. Yes yes, I know, we do keep an eye on you." Francis smiled. "And it's not the only time someone has observed you having a manic episode either. Aside from this your delusions are very severe, severe enough that you've lived for large periods of time deeply within them, too deep to remember your true life it seems...you also seem to be showing some Alogia right now, but that's to be observed." Arthur sipped at his drink again, wanting to speak, but with his mind so muddled up about what he was hearing and what had happened that it couldn't seem to remember words.

"I've also not seen you express any emotions other than anger and happiness, otherwise you're blank." Affective flattening - the words floated into Arthur's brain and then out again like soup. Life seemed very meaningless. "Because of these symptoms and confirmations from others, I'm diagnosing you with Schizoaffective disorder." Other facilities has diagnosed schizophrenia but Francis hadn't seen certain symptoms lasting long enough for that. "Do you agree with this, Arthur?" he waited, Arthur's attention came to him but the Brit did not speak. "It's okay, you don't have to speak now. You can finish up that and take a rest." For that, Arthur was glad.


	20. The in-between place

It had been three hours since his diagnosis. Arthur didn't know this though, since he had no way of tracking time. Francis had told him he was crazy, not in those words of course, but that's what it came down to. He was crazy, but how could that be? Arthur still couldn't push past the so called 'hallucinations' and 'delusions'. He couldn't shed them like an old skin or even poke his head above the water for a glimpse of truth. Surely if he was schizo-affective (_that was what he said, right? Right?_) there would be some times in which his head was clear? Things he would remember from his true life? He couldn't though and it made him want to punch something, throw something, just act aggressively and scream until all the frustration was out.

"I'm not crazy." Arthur growled to himself. Maybe something was just stopping his magic from working? _'Stop it Arthur, you're making yourself worse.' _"But I'm not crazy! I know I'm sane, I can feel it. There is no more than what I know of myself. " _'You're speaking to yourself though.' _Arthur snorted and laughed at himself. He was making the voice talk willingly, losing a little of his mind after all, perhaps. Francis had told him to try to not feed the illness, so he curled up and chanted softly to himself. "I'm ill. I'm very ill, but that's okay. I'll have help, these people will help me, I'll be helped." A large yawn cut through his mantra not too long after. The shock of the day had worn him out after all. Arthur curled up in foetal position under his covers and sucked at his thumb like a small child. Eventually, sleep claimed him.

In Arthur's dreams, he was in a corridor lit only by the soft glow of a street light outside as it came in through the far window. Arthur didn't recognise the place, though he felt he should. He reached out and grabbed onto banister next to him and was startled at how intense and real the smooth cold wood felt. In fact, this was the most vivid dream he'd ever had. He could smell the faint perfume of roses and lilies and his eyes could pick out the shape of them in a vase on a small table not too far from the Brit. He felt cold from the night, and the carpet beneath his bare feed was wonderfully lush. Arthur let go of the bannister and started forward, drawn forward as if on tracks. The shape of a door cut into the seamless flow of the wall. He couldn't make out the colour in the dark, but looking to the small lit place he saw it was a beautiful eggshell blue. Arthur brought his sight back to the door. There was something important in this room, he felt it. This was an important dream. Reaching forward, Arthur pressed down on the door handle and opened the door. Stepping into the room, Arthur closed the door behind him and almost yelled out in shock. He jumped, but didn't wake, and bit down on his lip. Someone was already standing in the room, body facing the wall but face towards Arthur.

Arthur's heart was somewhere between his throat and ears, and it rose straight to pound in his skull as the figure moved away from the wall and towards a large four-poster bed. _'Click' _The beside lamp came on and Arthur was somehow not surprised that the figure was Francis, dressed in his pyjamas just as Arthur was in his own. "And so the dream depends..." Francis spoke.

"Excuse me? What do you mean by that?" Arthur finally got his feet into gear and he took a few steps towards Francis so they could stop more comfortably.

"I mean I've not seen you in this dream before." Francis replied and then laughed. "I'm talking to you like you're actually here, oh my." he pretended to fan himself with his hand.

"Wait - you think this is _your dream?_ It's my dream." Arthur crossed his arms over his chest, the moving cloth bringing more chill to him.

"Of course it's my dream, I've been having this stupid dream about this room and those pictures ever since the real Arthur got to me. I thought they'd stop once I diagnosed him...but I guess it's just made them worse." Francis sighed and sat down on the bed, but the weariness in his eyes showed Arthur that Francis believed that this was he and Arthur sharing a dream, even though such a thing reeked of paranormal which Francis detested. Arthur looked at the wall and moved for his own look at the pictures. A smile spread on his face.

"This is us. This is the real us." Arthur wheeled around on the spot and grinned. "Ha! I told you, there's nothing wrong with me, something fishy is going on that's all. But...I don't think it's you any more, somebody else is messing with us both." he joined Francis on the bed.

"No! This is a dream!" Francis growled at him, treating Arthur to the look of humiliated anger he was well used to. "I'll prove it, I can do anything I want in a dream!" he grabbed Arthur's face and pressed their lips together. Arthur grunted in surprise and shock. He could do anything and this was what he chose, why?

Arthur pushed Francis away and slapped him. "Easy there, pervert."

"Ow...I felt that." Francis replied. He could feel the sting of Arthur's slap as real as he would have if he'd been awake and slapped. He was dreaming and yet somehow it was real. Francis' mind span. It was confusing to the point of the only answer being /it's magic, so go with it./ "Okay, so we're dreaming together. Now what?"

"That depends, do you want to talk here or do you want to talk in the so-called real world?" Arthur asked.

"I feel like we're supposed to speak here. This..." Francis motioned his head to the room. "This is our real universe, isn't it? You were telling the truth before and this is where we're really supposed to belong."

"I'm starting to believe that, yes." Arthur nodded. "This is your room. In Paris, you've leaved here a considerable amount of time."

"It's a nice place, I could get used to it." Francis closed his eyes a moment. "I don't think I will though. Arthur...I think you belong to this place, but I don't think I do."

"But you're-"

"Hush." Francis placed his finger on Arthur's lips to silence him. He took it away when he was sure that Arthur wasn't going to just start speaking again. "I don't think I'm your Francis, your France. I think..." he rubbed his head. "I've been having this dream a long time and each time I have it, it's like someone's whispering thing's into my head. I think that your France is using me to try to get to you, but he can only reach you here. It frees my mind, it helps me believe to be here. Yet, when I wake it all seems false again. Maybe it's because I don't want to believe, or because the magic of the place makes me forget it as a dream to keep my sanity. Perhaps when you're gone and the you from my universe is here, the dreams really will fade to just dreams and I can go on in my precious non-believing way."

"You keep saying 'perhaps' and 'maybe'." Arthur said.

"Yes I do, because I don't know. I feel that it's right but at the same time _I just don't know._" Francis sighed. "Can I hug you? I really don't want to talk about this any more tonight."

"Sure." Arthur waited until Francis had wrapped his arms around the Brit's shoulders and laid his head on Arthur's shoulder. "I hope I can reach you here often." he whispered softly.


	21. Closer

In his dream, Arthur blinked slowly and when his eyes had opened again, he was in his room. It was early, an hour before breakfast. Francis had said they'd start cognitive behavioural therapy after breakfast. "I don't want to put you on medication, at least not right away. Your delusions are unique and unusual, so until we've tried something else I want to make sure I know what is best for you." the Frenchman had smiled at the then still very much in shock Arthur.

Pondering that, Arthur got up from his bed and started to dress. The floor had long since been swept clean of his magic circle and he was sure that had been reported to Francis long before he'd finished the second one in Francis' office. He probably wouldn't be allowed chalk any more and for some reason that made Arthur chuckle. It just kind of tickled him a little.

The dream they'd shared was clear in his mind and once Arthur was fully dressed, he sat on the bed to run it through his mind and try to properly deal with it. Perhaps if he really was ill, that would have been a problem, but the clarity in which he could do it only assured him that he was sane. They had shared a dream, or more accurately, Arthur had entered a dream that Francis had had on a recurring basis. The Francis of this world seemed to believe he was a tool for Arthur's own Francis to bring Arthur back. That was the part Arthur was stuck on, of all nations, why would Francis help him? Sure the two of them were actually really good friends, but at the same time he saw no particularly reason why Francis should come to his aid. Anyone, in fact. The fact of his loneliness weighed upon him to the point where it almost seemed a good idea to stay in this universe. Rebuild himself and make real friends.

At the same time he knew he'd never be comfortable in this universe. He'd always know he wasn't human, it would be a feeling deep inside of him he couldn't ignore or even properly isolate to shun. Arthur stood, and started to pace. Could his Francis speak properly through this Francis? It didn't seem so, and the magic that brought the dream also made the waking doctor dismiss the truth, to preserve his sanity. "How nice of it..." Arthur chuckled conversationally to himself. Just mulling over past events would get him nowhere though, so Arthur went for a stroll before breakfast.

He noticed that a lot more of the staff would keep a firm eye on him until he was out of their line of sight. No doubt he'd be quickly brought back if he entered close to Francis' office again, surely everyone knew of his sneaking there by now. Arthur had no interest in that though, he instead left the building to sit in the small landscaped area between two glass tunnels that connected the old building with the new. It was nice here, with some flowers and better sun coming through. _'Maybe you're just having an 'up' mood, you know, one of the symptoms he spoke of.' _Arthur shook his head. If he kept thinking like that he'd never get home. He was having normal emotional reactions, he assured himself.

"Can I sit with you?" Arthur turned his head, it wasn't Francis as he'd almost hoped, but Sarah. It had been a while since he'd seen her, after all she was no longer his personal nurse. He didn't even think he had one any more, Francis seemed to selfishly want Arthur to himself. Arthur inclined his head to tell her that she could indeed sit.

Sarah sat and for a long moment didn't speak. She seemed nervous, her hands playing with the identification card around her neck as he looked down at the flag-stone floor. "I dreamt of you."

Arthur turned his attention towards her, his eyes alive with curiosity that told her he was listening and she better talk now that he was. "I dreamt of you." she replied. "Of the real you...oh God, this is going to sound so crazy, maybe I should be getting care here too..." she laughed, but the laugh was bitter and screamed with desperation to make light of the situation.

"Go on."

"I dreamt of you." There, a third time and she mentally scolded himself for sounding like a broken record. "The real you. I know why your magic didn't work here. Our world isn't full of magic like yours. You tapped into the last of it you had stored in your soul when you were finding out information in your room. Yes, I dreamt that too." she made herself stop playing with the card. "The dreams told me things. Like how you're wrong about there always being direct counterparts in each universe, or simply new souls. Sometimes the souls get recycled. In your universe, I was the first nanny you hired to look after America whilst you were away."

Arthur jerked a little, the memory coming in sharp and clear. His officials would deal with the business and political side of the country when he was away, but he hired a nanny to care for the child nation so he wouldn't get in trouble. "You were different then."

"What? You mean not-Asian?" Sarah laughed. "Yes I was, but race aside I'm surprised you didn't recognise me."

"Human faces come and go so quickly...look, love, is there a point to this? Only the last few days have really stressed me out." Arthur wondered who else around him had had these dreams. Quite a few, but they wouldn't speak of them. His power as their nation was growing stronger, invading them and showing them the truth. Arthur stopped her before she could even speak.

"The two worlds are joining!" He jumped up. "The two worlds are joining together soon, just like they must have done when I got stuck here! That means I can go home, only I have to find out how I got stuck here first..." he sat back down, ashamed at his own over-reaction.

"Mm, yeah..." Sarah mumbled. "Francis will help you, your Francis, I think. I bet he knows how it happened, but...all you have is our Francis so..."

"Don't worry about that, suddenly everything is very clear to me. I'm glad we met again, the chance to meet a human reborn again in any universe is always very slim." Arthur smiled. "Now, how about you get to work and take me to breakfast?"

Sarah smiled and rose, helping him up this time and then leading them both back inside.


	22. Back

Arthur kept his silence when he was led to Francis' office for his first therapy session. He'd learnt from experience that running into it with this man would only hurt his chances of being listened to and believed in. He felt now, that if he went alone and calmly told Francis what he knew, the dreams would have had a lasting enough impression for him to know Arthur was being truthful.

"Okay Arthur, I'm just going to explain what we'll be doing and how that's going to help you, for our first session." Francis told him. He'd pulled his own chair over to Arthur's side, so they could sit face to face without the desk between them. "It's not going to be stressful, I promise. In fact you might find it quite relaxing. If it helps you open up, all the better. We'll continue as long as you need it."

Arthur tuned out a little as Francis continued to talk and explain what this kind of therapy entailed. He was watching the Frenchman's eyes more intently though, there was a change behind them he couldn't fathom but deemed as important. Yes, there it was again. Francis was saying the words he had to as a professional, but his eyes were telling Arthur that he knew it was time, that their worlds were coming close and that this Arthur would soon be gone. There would probably be a lot of trouble when the real Arthur from this place came back, a lot of paperwork and explaining. Although, if the man really did have his own mental problems perhaps he'd be glad he was here and the whole incident could be calmly smoothed over.

"Francis-" Arthur couldn't hold his tongue. It wasn't that he had no patience at all, he'd been on plenty of missions where patience was key, but the thought of the chance of getting home slipping past him because he didn't act quickly enough made his gut clench horribly. "Listen, we need to talk...may I? It's what we're here for, isn't it?"

"Yes, of course...say whatever you want Arthur, get it all out." Francis smiled.

"Hmm..." Arthur picked up two sheets of blank paper from Francis' desk. The doctor watched curiously, but said nothing. "This...is your universe..."

"...go on." Francis allowed him to talk about the delusions he knew were truth but denied over and over.

"And this is mine." Arthur slid the pieces of paper across his knee so that too corners were close, and then steadily one on top of the other. He paused. "They're getting close. They can't cross into each other, Heavens that would be messy...but they're close enough for me to jump them now...well, maybe not yet, but soon. We'll know, we'll know tonight. When you go to sleep, I want you to make yourself go to the room." he looked up from the paper and seemed to address only the sparkle in Francis' eyes.

"Go to the room..." Francis repeated back, sounding dazed. Arthur put the paper back on the desk.

"We may continue."

"Uh? Oh yes, well um..." The doctor got back on track and Arthur went along. He was happy now, the part of his Francis that was in the doctor knew now, and they would meet in the in-between place to see if Arthur could cross there or if they could work out how and when he could cross later. Between then and now, Arthur took the therapy lightly. He could see how it would help people with real problems, but to him it was like nothing but roleplay. He would be glad when real people who needed this Francis' help could finally get it. All in all, Francis wasn't a bad doctor. Arthur smiled.

"Are you happy, Arthur?" The doctor asked, the end of their session close.

"Yes, I'm very happy to be getting this help...thank you."

Francis smiled back, the small praise making his heart sing. "Okay Arthur, you can go now if you like. Think about what we've said, go for a nice walk and clear your mind if you like. I heard you did something similar this morning and it seemed to have made you a little more co-operative."

Arthur scoffed. "Yes doctor." and snapped a salute. Francis laughed and shook his head. He would really have liked to get to know Arthur more as a person, but he had to regain some of his professionalism.

Francis laid down his head that night and Arthur's words came to him as if whispered by his own pillow. '_go to the room...'_

"I don't know what the room is, just delusional nonsense." Francis said to himself, wanting the sound of his own voice to give him confidence. It didn't though, because he did know what room Arthur meant and was afraid to go there. He didn't feel like himself there. Francis was powerless to stop it though, no sooner had he fallen asleep than he woke again in the Other bed in the Other room, almost completely some Other self. Getting out of the bed, he made it neatly and sat upon it's edge, waiting for Arthur.

He couldn't see any clock, but he could hear it ticking. The darkness seemed deeper this time than ever before, and in a childish way he felt that if he tried to turn on the lamp, it wouldn't work and neither would the main power. They didn't need the light, this was their hour, the witching hour. Francis sucked in breath, shaking a little as he waited. He'd been speaking with a being higher than mortal, a truly wonderful experience, and he'd been calling Arthur crazy the whole time. "Forgive me..." he whimpered. What more could have been expected of him? He could feel the other Francis, the one he thought of just as France, feeling him. He could feel the soft caress, the calming touch as knowledge was passed out without words. Arthur would be here soon, and a kiss would pass him back to the other world where France was kissing the Arthur that the doctor had meant to meet all along. "A lovers kiss to set us free..." he hummed and turned his head towards the sound of the door opening.

"Why is it so bloody dark?" Arthur swore from the darkness, fumbling forward until he hit the bedpost and then finding his way to sit down. Francis caught his hands and felt him jump a little in surprise. "Can't we turn the light on?"

"No, Arthur. It will be easier if we don't." Francis sighed and Arthur was startled again at how close he was on the bed, so close that he'd felt the warm sigh of air brush against his cheek. Arthur pulled back a little. "It's time, Arthur. A kiss will take you there."

"Like Hell it will!" Arthur snatched back his hands. The clock's ticking seemed to be getting louder, signalling that their time to make Arthur cross back was drawing nearer to an end, and then he'd be lost forever. "You kissed me before and it didn't work. I won't be tricked, you pervert."

Francis began to talk quickly, urgently conveying his message to Arthur. "Listen to me, France was worried because you missed an EU meeting and a private meeting with just him, that wasn't like you. You'd been messing with your magic and accidentally crossed into this world because of great coincidence. The coincidence being that my Arthur happened to be in his own basement at the same time pretending at magic. Our worlds come close twice in a short span of time every hundred years. It said so in the book that you left open and that the other Arthur was too frightened to touch." he took a breath. "Francis took care of the other Arthur and did all he could to get us this in-between place and try to help you. It was always guess work as to when this year the second coming together would happen, if we miss it now you won't get a chance for another hundred years. So kiss me! He is kissing the other Arthur right now, and waiting. We have twenty seconds now, Arthur, kiss me!" he begged, pulling their bodies close.

Arthur's skin crawled, his cheeks flushed in colour. His only chance, but why did the thing they were both doing have to be this embarrassing? "Arthur!" the ticking was deafening, it was inside of his skull, pounding away at the bone. Arthur wrapped his arms around Francis' neck and kissed him deeply.

Arthur felt nothing. No magical pull or tug or push. He opened his eyes and still only saw the deep blackness of the room. "France?" he offered hesitantly as the lips of the man he was kissing pulled away from him. He felt Francis move completely away, fumbling for the light. He cringed as it came on, lighting up the Frenchman's room. This Francis...this was his France. Arthur's chest swelled up and he could only just hold himself together. This was no dream any more, they were really in Paris, in his own world.

"Is it really you...England?" Francis was scared he'd messed up. He was not terribly into magic, and had been surprised when things he'd tried from the old book now on the floor had actually worked. If this had gone wrong though, a hundred years was a long time to wait for a chance especially when the human Arthur would die in that time. Francis saw that this man, if he were England, seemed too shocked to move and came back to him. "We can always try again..." he assumed it was still the human Arthur.

"Unlikely!" Arthur slapped him, though not hard, across the face. "Of all the damn 'same activities' you could have chosen for that moment you choice a bloody kiss?!"

Francis burst into relieved laughter and hugged Arthur tightly. "So it is you! I've missed your mouth, and just had to claim it for my own you see. No, don't fight the hug, I really did miss the real you...you may not believe, but you're one of a kind and even I miss what makes you you."

Arthur just nuzzled into Francis, feeling the other grow slightly warmer at that. "I forgive you. You have been uncharacteristically brave after all, I'm surprised you didn't just run away from it..."

"Ruining the moment, England." Francis snarled playfully.

"Sorry...I'm just glad to be home where I belong and nobody thinks I'm crazy..."

"I wouldn't be so sure about the last part."

"Ruining the moment, France."

They laughed.


End file.
